Detroit City! This is for all them big money makin
niggaz in detroit. I know ya' ridin high boy, i
know ya' ridin high. I might skate through my city
500 dry, just gotta fresh fade from the barber
shop. Gonna pick up my nigga we gonna hit the
strip, got the 3-5-7 just incase we trip. Might
get a lil' drunk might smoke some weed, and fuck
with some hoes thats all we need. I'ma' real ass
nigga that neva' fake, if you feel like me nigga
pump yo' break. See i made this shit fo' them
niggaz who roll, like Tony Montana out control.
From the D-E-R-T-R-O-I-T can't no nigga out there
fuck wit' me. I'm gettin (mailed?) fuck a jail
cell, post bail, Esham gettin paid who you gonna
tell. Wit' cho' punk ass! I blast! Any muthafucka
runnin' up in the ski mask. Never out done only
out doin', titty bar bitches is the hoes i'm
screwin'. Why? cause all my niggaz did they
addicted ta' sellin Yayo and yellin' hey hoe. If
you don't know i think you better go axe somebody
bout' a real nigga hoe YO! Chours: Bitch! you
betta axe somebody! (bitch you betta' axe
somebody) Cause i don't just talk! (i don't just
talk baby, thats right) (repeat) I don't just talk
when it comes to makin' my (snouts?) Cause i wuz
slangin' rocks way before all them rappers. On The
Find more similar lyrics on http://mp3lyrics.com/RSQconer sellin dimes, FUCK the ryhmes young nigga
came up through them hard times. I'ma' seven mile
ride, beers glidin big bluntin' ain't no picture
in if ya' frame. The fall of the best friends
Robbey and I, now niggaz in my city like do or
die. All i do is smoke weed and fuck these hoes,
have em' waitin by the phone hopin they get chose.
All you punk ass niggas be player hatin'. Cause
i'm makin this money strait regulatin'. And you be
ill legit all counterfeit. Ain't about no buisnes
you all about bullshit. Get yo' shit together,
stop ridin' on the next niggaz dick and lovin
these tricks. It all started as a toddler, .45
bullet swallower to the foot step follower. Slang'
an oz. niggaz wanna' know me bitches wanna know my
bidness cause ya' nosey. I'm thinkin how can i
come up on the 8 feet, i never let the money get
chance to get away from me. Street polaticin',
hood rat dick stickin, Call me Cernal Sanders
cause i got the fried chicken. Ill life wicked
ways make me real trife, i bring the thought up
it's all about "Reel Life" Chours Bitch!
you betta axe somebody! (bitch you betta' axe
somebody) Cause i don't just talk! (i don't just
talk baby, thats right) (repeat) Female Voice: You
better ask somebody, if you talk. (repeat 4x)